A Jar Containing a World
by Vulcanlover12
Summary: Spock returns to his quarters after the destruction of Vulcan, and there he finds a small amount of comfort.


**A/N:**** Okay, I was enveloped by Vulcan feels the other day and I spat this out. Very angst-y, so be forewarned.**

**NOTE: Set right after the destruction of Vulcan. There's a brief mention of an OC and the events in Emotions (my story), but nothing to the point it's bewildering.**

**-A Jar Containing A World-**

It all felt so numb.

The events slid by, not recognized in the blur of adrenaline and duty.

But when everything settled, all that he had ignored came crashing upon him.

He sank onto his bed, utterly exhausted despite his Vulcan stamina. His eyelids were heavy, his limbs feeling like lead weights, his entire body sore from wounds not yet healed - physical wounds, and emotional.

The realization sank into his mind and heart - his very katra - and he felt numb.

He had never felt so lonely.

All his life, despite its hardships, he had everything any man could want; a loving mother, a supportive (though impassive) father, and above all - a home.

Now, all he had was a severed maternal bond, an aching and nearly dead paternal bond, and the loss of six billion souls - all crying out in terror and fear of their demises - weighing down his shoulders.

For the first time in his entire life, he felt utterly alone.

Nyota had been kind. She had held him for the amount of time he required to reign himself - but didn't offer anything close to what he had lost. Sky had given him her support, using the ancient Vulcan words meaning _'I grieve with thee'_, and that had helped, slightly. Even his father, whom he hadn't spoken to in several years, had given him words of encouragement.

_'Why did this happen to me?'_

The despairing thought could only be heard by his own mind - and he quickly blew out the spark it caused and shut it away in the dark confines of his 'locker-room'. He'd created that particular place years ago, when his mind control became better. It had become easier to control his emotional human aspects then.

As he looked about his quarters, a long sigh escaped his nostrils. They were undecorated and bland, which served no comfort in his low point.

Feeling suddenly dirty and crowded, he stood and moved toward the small bathroom, which adjoined with the captain's quarters. Knowing that Kirk was elsewhere in the ship, he stepped inside and began unclothing, tugging his uniform shirt and undershirt over his head in a single movement; his boots quickly followed.

He stared at himself in the mirror, and did not recognize the Vulcan staring back at him.

His face was filthy, smeared with dust and sand. He hesitantly raised a hand to his cheek, lightly touching the streak of red dust, knowing it would be the last time he could touch his home planet.

Suddenly gaining an idea, he quickly moved back into his room and searched the cabinets. Finding what he required, he gathered up both items and went back into the bathroom; a scientific scalpel and a small bottle, about as big around as his index finger and half as long.

He opened the jar, held it up to his face and began to carefully scrape the dust into it. He moved completely over his face, never scraping himself, then to his hands and his shirt. Spock set the jar on the counter carefully and was about to seal it when he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

He turned and kneeled, picking up his right boot slowly. There, imbedded in the sole of the heel, was a pebble. It about the size of his pinky's fingernail, almost the color of the Eridani A - his home sun - as a scarlet red, the color of human blood. His mother's blood.

A sudden wave of emotion crashed down upon him, and he forced down the moisture gathering in his eyes.

He gingerly picked the pebble out of the sole of his boot, and placed it at the top of the jar before sealing it. The jar was now about two thirds full, and he turned it in his fingers, observing the red-orange sand and pebble sitting atop it.

Some of the loneliness lifted; a miniscule amount, but it lifted nonetheless, and Spock walked back into his room once again. He stored it in the drawer of his nightstand beside his single person-sized bed, securing it shut and leaving it there to complete his original task.

Spock never told anyone about it, until much, much later; he had it turned into a pendant on a bronze-chained necklace, and kept it in a locked box in his closet. It was not really much of anything, some might say; others might say he was being overly sentimental.

But it served as a reminder - a reminder of what once was, what could be again - a reminder of his dual heritage, his mother and his father - his home, his world. A jar full of sand and a pebble.

A jar containing a world.


End file.
